


they're in the play!

by Skyuni123



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Acting, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Comedy, Eating Disorders, Human Disaster Alexander Hamilton, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Professional Burnout, Sickfic, Threesomes, Under Milk Wood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2018-10-29 13:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10854651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: Perhaps it's the end, perhaps it's the beginning, but whatever happens, their theater class is going to make the best damn production of Under Milk Wood that anyone's ever seen.(Or, Alexander Hamilton is a bisexual human disaster who has no idea how to take care of himself.)(ft, my theatre degree, because I have to use it for something.)





	1. Exposition

Alexander Hamilton, all five foot five of him, comes rushing through the door like a hurricane, brandishing a pile of scripts in clasped arms. “Washington’s coming!” He gasps, “Sometime. Maybe. I think.”

Perhaps the half-empty cup of off-brand campus Starbucks (‘Stirbacks’) coffee that is sloshing over “Rosie Probert, thirty-three Duck Lane, come on up boys, I’m dead,” is causing the mania, but perhaps it is the date. It is the fourth of September, and the PERF413 theatre class is about to start one of their last shows before they graduate.

Alex’s mania is understandable. It’s quite the event, after all.

“Under Milk Wood…?” Lafayette, his very French, very unhelpful friend snatches one of the scripts from his arms and leaves Alex to dump the rest onto a lecture table.

Two or three go sliding onto the floor but Alex makes no move to pick them up, and instead looks at them mournfully. The lecture room is almost entirely empty, with only Eliza Schulyer ignoring him studiously from near the back. Oops. He… needs to sort that part of his life out.

“We’re doing Dylan Thomas? Washington got a thing for alcoholics or something?” Lafayette exclaims, looking less than pleased.

They’d all done _Cat on a Hot Tin Roof_ in sophomore year, and it had gone about as well as anyone had expected. (Accidental burning down of several sets be damned, the show _itself_ had gone off without a hitch. They’d had to put on extra shows!).

Alex takes a sip of his now-lukewarm coffee and wipes the sweat from his brow. The mad rush across campus had done no-one any favours. “I think he just wants an excuse to stage an entire show in the dark. Milk Wood’s a radio play. No stage directions. He’s mad if he thinks –“

“Who’s mad?” Washington enters the room and Alex straightens up from his slouch immediately. There’s something about Washington that makes Alex want to _try harder._ The man has _presence._ He takes a room and fills it. Probably explains all of his acting awards.

“Alexander here was questioning your decision to choose such a… unique… play.” Lafayette says, shooting a sly glance in Alex’s direction. He winks.

Alex pouts back at him, not best pleased. He sips more of his coffee, which has mutated from the incredibly-sugary-but-still-delicious concoction it once was to some sort of brown sludge.

“The language is excellent. It will bring crowds, and it has enduring culture relevancy.” Washington says shortly, setting his notepad down on the lectern. Old, he is not, but old-fashioned certainly applies.

“It’s a… bit Welsh… to have _that_ much cultural relevancy, surely?” Alex asks, cautiously, very aware that he’s probably walking into a trap.

It is Eliza that answers, piping up from the back of the room. “Under Milk Wood _is_ relevant. Any play can be made relevant. Dylan Thomas had a good grasp on love, loss, underdeveloped female characters, cheating… then again, you could probably fill in the blanks there, Alex.”

Beside him, Lafayette lets out a low whistle under his breath then laughs quietly, settling into one of the seats in the first row.

So he’s going to be no help then. That ‘cheating’ thing had been something he had been meaning to bring up with Eliza but there had been no chance over the summer break. “Eliza, I-“

“Eliza is right.” Washington continues, sorting the ragged scripts into neat piles. “There are many themes in this play that endure. I’m surprised you don’t remember from your first-year literature class, Alexander.”

To Alex, it just seems like everyone is trying to gang up on him. “Washington, I-“

“And we’re not doing accents, Alex.” The older man fixes him with a beady-eyed gaze. “No accents.”

Alex pouts again, in a way that is almost uncharacteristically petulant of him. Accents are _fun._ "But my Welsh accent is great."

Lafayette eyes him. "Alexander, darling, I love you, but your Welsh accent is  _merde."_

The rest of the class takes this moment as a signal to arrive.

 


	2. Scripts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m a hit with the ladies.” Lafayette waves at Maria Reynolds as she enters the class and she resoundingly ignores him. “Not her, the other ladies.”

Alex takes a petulant seat at the front of the class, and Lafayette scrambles over the desk to sit next to him.

“Since we are doing ‘Under Milk Wood’,” Lafayette continues to look less-than-amused. (He’d nearly failed first-year lit because he had insisted that the play was overly convoluted and not worth it. He hadn’t been _wrong,_ but he’d been rather too _forceful_ about it.), “I want to play Mr Dai-Bread.”

“Dai-Bread, with his two wives?” Alex quotes directly from the script, uncomfortable with how much he remembers after three years. “Very you.” He sips from the Stirbacks cup and tries not to wince. As their slogan goes – “It’s not good coffee, but it’ll keep you alive!”

Dai-Bread is a side character, a baker, who has two wives who don’t like him. It’s classical theatre, really.

“I’m a hit with the ladies.” Lafayette waves at Maria Reynolds as she enters the class and she resoundingly ignores him. “Maybe not her, the _other_ ladies.”

“You have a paragraph with your two wives and then you don’t appear in the rest of the play. Are you sure you’re ready for such an _extreme_ course load?” Alex frowns down at the coffee and sets it to one side for now.

“I’ll pick up scenography, it’s fine.”  Lafayette waves a hand in seemingly-gay abandon, which turns into a real wave as he spots someone else entering the room. “Laurens, come and sit at the front, we’re good students today!”

John Laurens, Alex’s on again off again crush (one of _many –_ Alex has a lot of love to give _)_ has his hair tied at the back of his neck, and looks very frazzled. They’d done _Spring Awakening_ the year before, with Alex as Hanschen and Laurens as Ernst, and it had been epic (and very gay). He just doesn’t know how a convoluted play by a Welsh maniac would top it.

“What’s up, baby girl,” Laurens says, sliding over the desk to sit on Alex’s other side. “You still drinking that shit?”

He takes a sip anyway and obviously immediately regrets it.

“Apparently.” Alex replies, trying not to laugh. The ‘baby girl’ still stings, but he’s not going to think about it. Start of a new semester. He’s a new person. “How was your weekend?”

“Working at the coffee place you _refuse_ to go to?” Laurens drinks more of the coffee, looking regretful. “Just swell.”

“Not your fault.” Alex replies, elbowing him in the side. It’s not. It’s not Laurens’ fault that the coffee shop he works at – ‘Bean and Gone’ (it’s next to a very atmospheric cemetery) has prices that would shock even hipsters.

Stirbacks might be potentially hazardous to his health, but he can afford it. (Just.) It’s five minutes into the new semester and he can feel a headache brewing. Ideal, this isn’t.

Washington calls the class to attention before the fourth member of their little gang, one Hercules Mulligan, deigns to make an appearance.

“Where’s Herc?” Laurens leans past Alex to whisper to Lafayette and rests an elbow on Alex’s thigh. Ouch. Not entirely unwanted, but _ouch._

Lafayette shrugs. “I messaged him and he says he will be late. Something about a particular sort of tête-à-tête.”

“He’s getting laid?!” Laurens gasps, elbow digging _very painfully_ into Alex’s thigh.

“You know what they say – a man cannot cease in the name of _l’amour.”_ Lafayette continues, looking wistful. It’s quaint, really.

“Somehow I doubt there’s much of the ‘l’amour’ about it.” Alex replies ruefully. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Laurens laughs into his neck, tickling him, and normally Alex would be completely into that, but the elbow is still pressed into him and he fears he’s losing circulation to the bottom part of his leg.

“Come on, get off.” Alex nudges him out of the way. “Class is starting.”

“How are we all?” Washington asks, arranging his papers on his lectern in a way that suggests that he doesn’t want an answer. “Your break was fine? Good. Now, as Alexander so loudly complained before –“ Washington fixes him with a glare that would have made him shrink in his seat if he was still a freshman, “We are doing Under Milk Wood for our play this year.”

Those who were not in the room when Alex had made his announcement a few minutes previously make some noise, but don’t seem overly concerned.

“You will submit _three_ assignments over the course of the class, and you will be graded on those as well as your performance in the show and work you put towards a production role. Any questions?”

Alex can’t see who puts their hand up first, but he can definitely _hear_ them. Charles Lee. A _stupendous_ prat. Laurens had fought him over improper stage practises (he had been health and safety manager on set) the previous year, and won.

“Remind me what Under Milk Wood is again?” Lee asks, and everyone _groans._ The man owns a cell phone. The man could _Google._ Sometimes technology is wasted on people.

“One of you answer him.” Washington waves a hand out towards the rest of them. He looks fed up already. This doesn’t bode especially well.

Alex jumps to answer but is interrupted by Angelica Schuyler. She’s Eliza’s older sister, rather ferocious, and not especially pleased with him either.

That doesn’t bode especially well either, considering how many romantic relationships there are in Under Milk Wood and how few girls there are in the class. Alex expects a fair amount of arguments in his future, and he’s sure he’s going to lose most of them.

“Under Milk Wood is a fifties play set in a Welsh fishing village. It’s a day in the life of the village, has far too many characters, and nothing happens for two hours.” Angelica puts it, _very_ bluntly.

Washington sighs. “While your point was a little crass, Angelica, you aren’t wrong. There’s no big fight scene at the end of this play, no vanquishing of enemies, no rising motion to a climax. It’s just a day in the life of a town, and there’s many side stories within this town…”

Alex leans back in his seat with a sigh, not eagerly anticipating the overview of first-year lit that is about to come.

-

Sometime later, when Washington has sufficiently explained the premise of the play – in short, ‘some people love each other, some people hate each other, and some people are ghosts’ – and Mulligan has not yet made an appearance, he says, “There are fifty-four characters in this show and twelve of you in this class – wait a minute, where’s Hercules, Alex?”

Alex jolts guiltily from where he has been dozing on Lafayette’s shoulder and says, “I don’t know, sir.”

Lafayette pipes up, “He said he would be here.”

Considering it is nearly the end of their class, Alex doubts that ‘he’ll be here’ any time soon.

Washington looks exasperated and taps on the edge of the lectern. “One of you let him know when you see him. Like I was saying, there are fifty-four characters in this show, and only twelve of you. Two of you are only going to be playing the narrators – or the ‘Voices’ as they are mentioned in the script – so that leaves the rest of you to split the remainder of the roles. However, if you get a certain role, there’s only a few other roles you can get in the play so you have time to do costume changes and such. Does that make sense?”

The noise from the rest of the class around him is vaguely in the affirmative. Alex knows how they’re feeling. He just wants to get up and go – to start creating the show – rather than sitting on his ass and relearning things he already knows.

“Good.” Washington says, and passes the stacks of scripts to Laurens. “Take one and pass them back. You’ll be auditioning for one main role, so chose a piece of the script you like, and be prepared to perform to me during our Wednesday class. You’re seniors, you know how this works.”

Alex grabs a script off the stack and he’s lucky enough to get the one that he’d splashed coffee on. He supposes it serves him right.

Under Milk Wood. Right. It’s not a dream. Now he must decide who he wants to try out for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the true irony is over the lateness of this chapter because i was performing my own version of under milk wood, which sold out all five nights and went very well! 
> 
> i'm a bit sad it's over, but that's the miracle of theatre for you, i guess.
> 
> honestly, check this play out, it's mad but brilliant. dylan thomas was an alcoholic and probably a bit of a lunatic, but it's a darn good show.


	3. Character Study

After his classes finish for the day, he schlepps over towards Bean and Gone, which is the campus’ overpriced coffee shop, and conveniently also where Laurens works.  Before he’d been a complete fool at the end of last semester, he and his friends used to hang out at the coffee shop after class, do their coursework, and very rarely buy anything.

That being said, he wasn’t sure how many friends he still had left. Lafayette, Laurens and Herc had all stood by him, after they’d beaten him down a bit for being so damn stupid, but Eliza, Angelica, their other sibling Peggy, and their friend (though he wasn’t sure if that was still the case) Maria weren’t talking to him.

It had been Maria that had been the source of all this mess.

(Or more accurately, it had been _him_ , but she’d played a part.)

Maria and Alex had been in the same Production Design class at the end of the previous year’s classes. Faced with a practically-impossible project dropped on them at the last minute, they’d had a lot of long nights together and one thing had led to another.

Only problem was, Alex had been dating Eliza at the time, and she had not been happy when she had found out.

It had been his fault, there was no doubt about that. Maria had been unattached, and he hadn’t been. He was the one that needed to make amends.

He just doesn’t know how to _do_ that.

 

“Alex. I take it you’re not here to actually _buy_ anything?” Aaron Burr, Laurens’ boss says, from behind the counter. He is restacking mugs next to the coffee machine.

“Nope.” Alex says. “Anyone about?”

“Not yet.” Burr replies.

It’s only just gone three. He supposes it is to be expected. The coffee shop is almost deserted.

“Great.” Alex says. “Thanks, Burr.”

Burr nods at him disinterestedly, but doesn’t kick him out. He feels lucky. Eliza and Burr got on well, and he had been worried that the older man would ban him from the place. He’d fucked up, but he still didn’t want that to happen.

Alex settles into a booth in the corner and leafs through his script. Unless he lands one of the narrator parts – and he really can’t think of anything worse – he isn’t going to be saying much. There aren’t that many characters with heaps of lines, which he supposes is fair enough. He’ll be playing more than one role, after all.

He’s sure he’d heard Washington say something about ‘breaking up’ some of the narrator parts, but he’d not been paying much attention. The narrator parts were dense and just descriptive words. Now he has the actual script in his hands, it’s even more obvious that it had been a radio play. _Every_ move the characters make is spelled out in lines of prose. Hardcore stuff.

 

Should he go for Organ-Morgan, the preoccupied organist; Sinbad Sailors, hopeless in lust with Gossamer; or Captain Cat, mourning for his lost love? He could try out for Lafayette’s favourite, Dai-Bread, who has one paragraph and then disappears from the entire script; or Lord Cut-Glass, the mad clock-maker.

He’s not altogether too fussed. None of the characters jump out at him. He’s sure some of them will (and probably the ones he’s not actually playing) when they get into the rehearsal process, but for now, he’s content with anything.  

Still, he makes some notes on characters and decides on the monologue he’s going to do. He has three other assignments for this class (as well as a few large ones for his Playwriting and Directing courses) so now is not the time to get behind with work.

 

He’s so engrossed with memorising his monologue (Mog Edwards’ letter to his love, Myfanwy), that he jumps when Laurens slides into the seat opposite him, holding two steaming cups of coffee and a bowl of waffle fries. It’s a hipster café that also does meals, dammit!

 

“Getting an early start, I see.” Laurens says dryly, pushing one of the cups of coffee towards him.

“I can’t take this.” He can’t afford to buy anything from this damn shop, and he’s not going to owe anyone. He doesn’t like to take favours from people. It just doesn’t feel right.

“I made it myself. Yes you can.”

“Come on…” He groans, but Laurens’ gaze is firm. He sighs and takes the cup. “Fine, but don’t do it again.”

 

The coffee is nice, far nicer than Stirbacks’ watery stuff. He’s thankful for the gift but still irritated that he can hardly pay for it himself.

 

Laurens pulls his script towards him. “Mog? Nice. I was going to go for Cat, myself.”

Pensive, passionate, lovelorn? Yeah, Alex can see him as Captain Cat. “You should.”

“I was thinking about it and all, but it’s one of the biggest roles in the show. I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

“You definitely should!” Alex replies, and covers Laurens’ hands with his own. “It’d be so worthwhile on your show reel, too.”

“That’s our Alex, always future-proofing.” Laurens says, with a wry smile. He considers. “Also, if I play Cat then there aren’t many others I can play. He’s in most of the damn show.”

“I’m sure Washington will find someone.” Alex grins at him, suddenly feeling much better. Friends can do that for you. “He’ll probably stick you with Attila Rees.”

“Joy. Two-line Attila Rees. Can’t wait.” Laurens carefully extracts his hands from his and takes a sip of his coffee.

“It’d show you have a range. Blind, hopelessly-in-love Captain Cat, and useless policeman Rees. Comedy and tragedy.” Alex insists, not sure why he’s stuck with this train of thought. The policeman aside, he can see Laurens as Captain Cat. It’d be a damn good fit, and he hopes that he goes for it.

“Yeah, yeah, sure thing Alex.” Laurens replies, apparently trying to mollify him, and punches him gently in the shoulder.

 

They’re interrupted by the arrival of Hercules, who Alex hasn’t seen all day.

 

“Boys.” He says, by way of greeting, and waits for them to shuffle over so he can sit down next to Alex and put his feet up on the seat opposite.

Alex stifles a laugh. “Your pants look hot, Herc.”

Herc is wearing pyjama pants that have giant love hearts on them. Bean and Gone is not too far from his flat, so it’s not inconceivable that he just forgot to put on proper pants, but still, on the _first day_ of the semester…

“My mother loves me very much,” Herc says, very firmly. “Boys, I had _a morning.”_

“Lafayette thought you were getting laid.” Laurens says, sitting back with the bowl of fries in hand.

“I wish I was getting laid.” Herc reaches over and snags a fry. “My suitors don’t agree with food poisoning, though. I spent the weekend getting it on with my bathroom.”

“…Great.” Alex takes a couple of fries from the bowl as well, “And you’ve come out the other side of it and decided to go straight on the fried foods?”

“I am _worn down,_ Alex.” Herc replies, “Leave me to die with my fries and my heart pyjamas in peace, man.”

“It’s your life.” Alex waves a fry in the air to emphasise how _fine_ he is with it. They’re good fries. Bean and Gone might be a bit weird at times, but their food is second-to-none.

“If you move your ass I’ll get you some tea.” Laurens offers. “The good stuff, too.”

“Tea? Man…”

“If you move your ass I’ll get you some totally-hardcore, totally-manly tea.” Laurens rephrases, rather passive-aggressively. “That cool, _bro?”_

Herc laughs. “Alright. Only because it’s you.” He shifts his legs and lets Laurens shuffle out of the booth. He pulls his wallet out of his hoodie pocket and tosses at Laurens. “Put some cash in the tip jar while you’re at it.”

“You could just pay me.” He complains. Laurens is one of the two Bean and Gone employees. “It’d be faster.” However, he does what he is asked and disappears behind the counter to make the tea.

 

“So, the Play. What’s happening?” Herc chomps through another couple of fries. “I _think_ I got an email from Wash earlier when I was vomiting, but I only skimmed it.”

Alex quickly outlines the day’s events to him.

“Milk Wood?” Herc seems pensive, but not completely put off. “Alright. Bags the murdery one.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“You know, the murdery one.” Herc peers at him, clearly trying to make him understand by sheer force of will alone. “Chops up wildlife and feeds them to his family murdery one?”

“Mr Butcher-Beynon?” Alex remembers, but only because he’d thought about trying out for that role himself, then decided against it.

“Yeah.” Herc settles back in his seat, somewhat-smugly. “He’s a maniac. I love him.”

“You’re welcome to him.”

“Which him’s that then?” Laurens takes this moment to return to their table, mug of ginger tea in hand. He drops the mug down in front of Herc and gestures for him to shift his legs out of the way again.

“Butcher-Beynon.” Herc replies, and grudgingly moves.

“Yeah, bit much for me, man.” Laurens grabs a handful of fries and sits, picking at them. “Generally I like my roles without implied cannibalism.”

“Weak.” Herc guffaws. “A good actor needs a range that includes cannibalism.”

“Shut up, Herc.”

 

The afternoon passes with comfortable conversation, before Alex has to excuse himself. It’s a condition of his scholarship that he works as part of the facility he is studying under, so essentially that means he has to do errands for Washington, who is head of the Drama facility.

Plus, he has to prepare his monologue. He’s only got _two_ days until he needs to perform the damn thing!


	4. Read-Through

The audition goes about as well as expected. He has to perform his monologue, do a bit of singing and dancing (this show has _many_ songs in it), and talk to Washington about the character he wants to play and why he wants to do so. It’s standard for a college audition, and he leaves feeling quite pleased with himself.

After doing some work for the Drama facility, mainly photocopying and such, he pays off his rent for the week and is left with more money than he expected. He’s in a good mood, so the release of the cast list that night suddenly ruins his day.

 

Laurens has Captain Cat, which is some _good_ news. The rest is… less good.

Alex is Mog, with Eliza as his Myfanwy. Although he’s pleased that he’s going to be playing one of the show’s romantic leads, he can see the romance angle being problematic because he knows she’s still pissed at him.

Devastatingly enough, he’s playing romantically opposite her _twice._ She’s Mrs Ogmore-Pritchard (a compulsive germaphobe) and he’s playing Mr Ogmore. Laurens is playing Mr Pritchard.

Fuck. It’s like Washington _knows._

(Knowing him, he probably does.)

 

He scans the rest of the list, seeing that both Lafayette and Herc got the roles they wanted. George King, the most pompous actor on earth, is playing Nogood Boyo – who is both footloose and fancy free – which should prove interesting.

There isn’t much in the way of surprises in the list, but he _does_ see that Washington has written on the bottom of the document: ‘any unnamed characters will be played by anyone available’, which means his character-load could go from four people to a lot higher.

Yeah, this play could prove to be… rather interesting.

He finds it hard to fall asleep that night. He’s not worried, exactly, but he doesn’t know what the next day’s read-through will bring.

 

The studio is humming the next morning. Alex, drunk on four hours sleep and the inevitability of assignments, sits slumped over a desk near the back of the room twenty minutes before anyone else has even arrived. He doesn’t know if he can muster the enthusiasm to emote today, but thankfully it’s only a read-through. He can _do_ this.

Hopefully.

 _Hopefully_ he can do this.

He sips from his coffee, grimaces, and momentarily begs for death. He’s an idiot who missed breakfast and he might just melt into the floor by the end of the read-through.

His general ‘bleh’ moment is interrupted by Eliza’s voice.

 

“Alex?”

He looks up, shocked out of his skull. It’s been two months since she’s talked to him, and while he knows that it’s mostly his fault, it’s a surprise that she’s broken the silence _first._

She’s not smiling, but she doesn’t look like she wants to flay him alive either. That’s a very good sign.

“Eliza.” He tries for pleased, but it falters and comes out more confused than anything.

She settles in a chair in front of him. “I’m not happy with you.”

“…I know….?” Boy, does he ever.

“But I want us to talk again. It’s going to be an uncomfortable three months if we don’t.”

She has a very good point. Damn. Why does she have to be so _good_ sometimes? He thinks he would almost prefer it if she was still angry.

“I’d like that too.” Alex says, feeling rather sorry for himself. “And… for the record, ‘Liza, I’m sorry. For everything.”

She laughs, but it’s not a happy sound. “You’ve said that enough in the last two months, Alex. It doesn’t mean much anymore.” She leaves him then, to take a seat near the front of the studio.

He thinks that he might have just made things worse.

 

Later, when everyone else has arrived, Washington makes them shift the desks out of the way and pull their chairs into a circle in the middle of the room.

“Before we start this run, does anyone have any big grievances about their characters that they want to air?”

The room is, surprisingly, silent. That’s basically a first from this class. He’s sure that _someone_ must be unhappy with their roles, but maybe they all feel as unattached with the characters as he currently does.

He doesn’t know. It’s weird.

 

“Good.” Washington continues, taking a seat himself. “Now instead of doing a slow read through today, we’re going to do something different.”

This isn’t going to bode well.

“You’re going to walk through your scenes in the centre of the circle, while reading your lines from the script. It will help me visualise the show and let you get a feel for your characters.”

Oh. Well, Alex can’t say that he’s not one for a challenge.

 

And so, the two Narrators – Charles Lee and James Madison – (more accurately known as the quiet ‘wildcards’ of the class) start them off.

The first few scenes run more smoothly than he would have anticipated. It’s rough, of course, because it’s _literally_ the first time they’ve ever spoken these words, but there’s no major hiccups. Washington stops the class a few times to give out extra characters (‘First Drowned’, ‘Second Neighbour’ and so on) but everything runs nicely.

Alex even manages to stumble through his romantic scene with Eliza (the first one in the play, about five pages in) without losing his mind too much.

 

Everything falls apart in his second scene. Mrs Ogmore-Pritchard (played by Eliza) lives with the ghosts of her two husbands, Mr Ogmore (played by him) and Mr Pritchard (played by Laurens). Mrs Ogmore-Pritchard is a compulsive cleaner, and both her husbands killed themselves to escape her.

It’s certainly not the strangest role Alex has played, but it’s close.

“One moment.” Washington interrupts, just as Alex is about to get out of his seat. “Alex and John, could you play this scene as though you hate Mrs Ogmore-Pritchard, but you are in love with each other?”

Certainly, the hatred towards Mrs Ogmore-Pritchard is in the _script_ , but Dylan Thomas hadn’t exactly made mention of the ‘two ex-husbands being in love’ thing. Then again, 1950s sensibilities.

And considering how Alex feels towards both Laurens and Eliza right now, it’s not exactly going to be a problem.

“Sure.” He agrees, climbing out of his chair, and Laurens follows him to the centre of the round.

 

Playing romantically opposite someone you’re attracted to is strange. Alex has done it before, because he has a _bad_ habit of crushing on a lot of people, but it still is strange. How much of his performance is him? How much is the character? Sometimes it’s hard to distinguish the two.

“Good.” Washington praises, as they finish, “We’ll work on the blocking. Maybe add a kiss? How would you two feel about that?”

Alex has no qualms and neither does Laurens. Stage kisses aren’t anything like the real thing. He knows that from experience.

 

The rest of the read-through runs as expected. There are some slip-ups, lots of dialogue errors, and plenty of embarrassment (especially in the scene where the main sex scene will take place), but in all, it’s a good first read.

Alex runs off straight after the class finishes. He’s got a Playwriting lab, a tutorial for Directing, and then he has to work. He wishes that he could stay, discuss things with the rest of the class, but then again, he kinda doesn’t.

It’s late evening by the time he gets back to his apartment with a stack of PERF101 worksheets in hand. He has to mark them before Friday and then get them back to the Drama school. When he falls onto his bed to start marking them, his stomach growls and he remembers that the only thing he’s eaten all day was a giant granola bar from a vending machine that he’d swiped at lunch.

Oh well, he’s not going to move. He’s too damn tired _and_ he’s got work to do.

 

He’s halfway through reading the line, ‘the use of certain dramaturgical elements within this piece…’ when his phone buzzes with a text. He swipes through and checks it, relieved to have something to do that isn’t reading terrible first-year answers.

 

**Laurens <3: ** _I’m in the area wanna hang_

He considers for a moment. At least, if Laurens is around, he’ll probably not fall asleep and drool all over the worksheets.

**Alex:** _alright. door’s unlocked, im in my room_

 

Going back to the worksheet, he waits for the sound of his front door opening. He probably should keep it locked, but the area of town he lives in isn’t _that_ bad. He usually locks it.

“You should lock your door.” Laurens yells from the other room, rather than greeting him.

“Lock it then.” He yells back, without looking up.

“You’re unsafe.” Laurens tsks as he steps into the room. “You’re asking to get robbed.”

“’m not asking for anything.” Alex murmurs, writing _7/10_ at the bottom of the worksheet.

“It was the studio next to yours that got all that camera gear stolen, right?” Laurens settles onto the corner of his bed and dumps his bag onto the floor.

“Yeah, but I don’t have anything here worth stealing.” He casts the finished worksheet aside and reaches for another one. “Just a laptop. And food.”

“You have absolutely no self-preservation skills.” Laurens tells him, _very_ frankly.

“Yep.” Alex agrees, because it’s true. He gets fixated on things sometimes, and he can’t stop doing them, even to the detriment of himself. It’s a problem, but he can’t… not… do it. Ticking the first question, he looks up for the first time in a few minutes. His eyes widen. “Whoa, are you feeling okay?”

Laurens looks about as exhausted as Alex feels. “Man, I’m cool. My shift was a bit long but it’s nothing major. I’m used to it. Are you feeling alright?”

“Yep.” Alex tells him, ticking another box. His stomach takes the opportune moment to rumble, rather loudly.

“Alex.” Laurens sighs, rather fondly. “When did you last eat?”

For someone who is a year or so younger than him, Laurens has all the trappings of a mother hen. “…why?”

“Alex.”

“…I had a granola bar a few hours ago.” He says, a bit sheepishly. He neglects to mention the missed breakfast thing. He’s sure it’d just rile Laurens up more.

“Alex.” Laurens sighs, patting him on the shoulder fondly. “You’re an idiot.”

“I am _so_ aware.” He writes a note next to one of the questions. _Stanislavski, not Brecht._

“You are a human, you need to eat.”

“Yep.”

“I’ll make you stir-fry.” Laurens hops off the bed, and Alex has no choice but to leap off the bed himself (trying very hard not to swoon – he’s pretty hungry, alright), and follow him to the kitchen.

“You really don’t have to do that. You’re tired. You should be sleeping!”

“Alex.” Laurens turns to him, suddenly very exasperated. “Go and do your marking. I’ll make stir-fry for both of us.”

“But-“

“No. Go on.”

And Alex… _does._

 

He didn’t even realise he had the ingredients for stir-fry, but Laurens comes back with something a few minutes later that smells and tastes _incredible._

“You’ll make someone a good husband one day.” Alex says, wishing he could climb inside the stir fry. He’s sure nothing has ever tasted quite so good before.

“Chill out, I’m 21.” Laurens tucks into his own portion, “I think I’ve got a while to go before that happens.”

“Sure, sure.” Alex sighs. “Thanks for this, though.”

“It’s not a problem.” Laurens replies, smiling back at him, and he’s so earnest and _lovely_ that it makes Alex’s gut ache. “What are you marking?”

“Worksheets for PERF101.” Alex replies. “They’re… terrible.”

“We were definitely that bad.”

“We definitely were not! _I_ didn’t mix up Stanislavski and Brecht.”

Laurens laughs. “That reply was really pretentious of you.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He wonders if he can multitask, write worksheets with one hand and eat with the other. He wants to melt into his bed and sleep for a week (and he’s only been back for three days).

Ticking a box, he asks, “What did you think of the read today?”

Laurens shrugs, “I had a good time. I think there’s a lot of potential within the script, though it’ll be hard to stage.”

“Yeah, but what did you think about the Ogmore-Pritchard thing?” Alex presses, scribbling _4/10_ on the bottom of the sheet.

He shrugs again. “There’s basis in the script. I like the change. 50s Wales wouldn’t have, but I like it.”

“Me too.” Alex replies softly, looking up to meet his gaze.

There’s silence for a couple of seconds.

 

“Anyway, hurry up and finish marking, I want to watch a movie and then sleep for a week. Can I stay over?” Laurens asks, breaking the tension.

“Yeah, sure.” Alex is back to ticking. “Man, I don’t even know why you bother asking anymore. Mi casa es su casa and all that. Couch is yours.” He waves a hand.

Laurens doesn’t make it to the couch. They both pass out on top of his bed, leaning on each other, somewhere in the middle of a crappy torrented version of the _Under Milk Wood_ movie.

 

It’s to be expected, really.


	5. Blocking

The Rehearsal Period begins in earnest, and it’s a killer, even only a few days in. This is going to be a very complex show – full of dance, song and a bit of sex, which is confusing enough.

Alex’s feelings towards everything don’t help.

He needs to stop wallowing, he knows that. He needs to sort out his love life (or lack thereof), learn his lines, and maintain some semblance of health, but he’s skipping meals as he runs from class to class, and he’s not sleeping the best, either.

Is this how he’s going to die? Collapsing on stage in the midst of the second act? It wouldn’t surprise him. At least it’d be a fitting death. He’d probably go down in history.

The main sex scene is also weighing heavily on him. Sex scenes are nothing major, and about as far removed from real sex as anything can be – but he’s acting opposite Maria. It’s like this entire play is set up as a way for him to deal with his feelings, but he supposes that’s not exactly improbable considering the size of their class.

When people say that theatre is a hotbed of relationship dramas, they’re not joking. He’s pretty sure that most of the people in the class have slept with each other – and they manage to coexist just fine – so why can’t he?

 

They’re blocking the sixth scene in the first act today. It’s a pretty complex scene, but he’s only in it at the start, so he’s content to say his paragraph and then sit back, letting the poetry wash over him.

Despite complaining at the start of things, he’s beginning to _like_ this play. It’s antiquated, but still relevant.

 

Laurens sits on a box next to him, having finished playing the one line he has in the scene. “What do you think?” He says quietly, gesturing out towards the stage.

 

“I wish we had a bigger class.” Alex laughs under his breath as Lafayette runs from one side of the stage to the other, maniacally miming out the costume change he’ll have to do from Ocky Milkman to Willy-Nilly.

 

“Same.” Laurens muses. “Four roles isn’t much, in the end, but Cat’s always on stage. The man has a million lines.”

 

“You’re doing well with it so far.”

 

Laurens raises his eyebrows at him and leans in closer. “Thanks. You ready to get your ins with Maria when Washington blocks the sex scene?”

 

“Get out.” Alex shoves him away. “I’m in enough trouble already.”

 

“You and Eliza are broken up, right?” Laurens shrugs, “Just saying you could go for it.”

 

“No.” Alex says loudly, surprising even himself, “The thing with Maria was a mistake. I don’t care for her like I do -“

_You_ and _Eliza_ was on the tip of his tongue, but he stopped himself just in time. “It was a mistake.” He repeats again, dumbly, almost stumbling over the words.

 

“Cute, man. Sentimental.” Laurens pushes him back, but more gently. “Think Wash wants you.”

 

Washington is waving him over with one hand. “We’ll block the Gossamer/Sinbad scene today because Maria is going to be away for the rest of the week.”

_Oh_. This is a development.

 

“Do we get to watch Alex pretend to get laid?” Lafayette chortles, with a wide grin. “Cool.”

 

“Nope.” Washington says, very firmly. “Everyone out. All of you, except Alex and Maria. When you’re outside, you can start working on your first assignment.”

 

Everyone goes, after a minute or so, with a lot of grumbling.

 

It’s not like this is going to be remotely sexy, anyway. It’s just blocking.

The feelings and such come later.


	6. alex is really shit at taking care of himself ok

Later, after Alex has recovered (somewhat) from the embarrassment of the sex scene, George is causing a fuss at the front of the room.

“But what do I _draw_ on?” He whines, very obviously making a scene and wanting them all to know it. “These characters are so thin.”

He’s right. They are thin. They were written for a radio play, after all. However, most people have the sense to take what’s written in the script and build a character around it – making the character their own. It’s what most actors do, but George is fond of scripts.

After three years, Alex knows that all too well.

“Nogood Boyo is a modern-day Casanova.” Washington says patiently. “Except he thinks his skills are better than they are. Start with that and build on it.”

It’s infuriating how good George is when he tries. Alex doesn’t want to like him, but he’s a damn good actor and he can’t just ignore that kind of talent. It’s breathtaking to watch sometimes.

 

Herc drops into the seat next to him. “We’re not going to finish this run today because of him,” he coolly observes, and doesn’t look pleased about it. His pants are not the ones with giant hearts on. It’s almost unfortunate.

“Yeah. That going to be an issue?”

“Blocking’s shit. You know that, I know that. I just want to start doing things, y’know?”

 “I do.” The excitement of the play is beginning to itch under his skin. He can see it taking shape before his eyes and he _likes_ it.

 

He’s not ashamed to say that he tears up during Laurens’ final scene – near the end of Act 2. Captain Cat is reunited with his lost love, Rosie, and the pair dance with each other, reaffirming the passion they once had.

He’s going to be a wreck once the scene is ready. A cursory glance around the studio seems like he won’t be the only one. Peggy is sniffing and even a couple of the boys look like they’re about to tear up.

That sort of love… it’s unobtainable and desirable. It’s love from a fairytale.

 

Wash blocks out the final scene and then lets them leave. Half-past nine and it’s dark outside. Alex has more worksheets to mark (this internship is driving him mad) as well as some publicity work to draft, plus a rough outline of his script for Playwriting is due in in a couple of days.

He loves hard work, really, he does.

It’s just… is it worth compromising his creativity for quantity? He knows he could be doing better – could be turning As into A pluses – but something about it is beginning to seem so hollow. He hopes it’s just a third-year slump.

Laurens crouches next to him as he’s packing his bag to leave. “You look tired.”

“So do you.”

“Thanks, baby girl. Always good to hear it from you.” His gaze softens, so Alex knows he’s joking. “Can I stay over?”

“Uh- yeah!” Alex reassures him, a little bit confused as to why. “Of course. Always. Just… why?”

“The Captain feels like he’s going to hang around. Don’t really want to be alone, you feel?”

“Yeah.” He does. He gets it.

There’s a thing in the theatre world that isn’t talked about enough. Acting isn’t just a physical thing that actors can take off at the end of a long day. Lots of actors put parts of themselves into the characters to help bring them to life, and often that means it can be hard to shake those characters off.

Alex has played tyrants on stage, and knows this to be true. The horror at the behaviour of the character can often be rationalised by understanding them. He doesn’t mind playing tyrants because of the power it gives him.

The actor/character dynamic works both ways. It’s just hard to deal with sometimes, especially with roles that are overly sad or tragic.

With Captain Cat’s lost love story, Alex can understand why Laurens might not want to be alone.

“Yeah, come back with me.” He says, “Gotta mark things, but it’s all good.”

Laurens gives Alex a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh yeah, that stuff about 'characters hanging around' is totally true, by the way. maybe not for all actors, but defs for a lot of them.
> 
> i've played a ton of roles with traumatic stuff in them (sexual assault, murder, etc) and i've genuinely had roles that heavy weigh on me for days after the show's finished. it's even affected my relationships with some of my fellow actors. directors should always have a 'de-roling' sort of process put in place for plays that are that heavy, but a lot of them don't bother doing it and it's kinda bad.


	7. Bodega Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alex is really shit at taking care of himself ok pt2

Laurens is  _ appalled  _ at the lack of food in Alex’s cupboards. “There is a bodega  _ downstairs _ , Alexander. Three packs of rice, half a carrot, a box of cereal and two large bags of instant coffee - unopened, might I add - do not a meal make.”

 

“I know, I know.” Alex says, sheepishly, “But the bodega downstairs makes things  _ worse.  _ I stop there on the way into the building and out, and never buy anything permanent.” He’s lying, blatantly, and he hopes Laurens won’t see through it. He never has time to grab anything, and, truth be told, often forgets. He’s got  _ so  _ much to do.

“Now you’re just making excuses.” Laurens give him a long-suffering look. “If you stay here and do your work, I’ll cook you dinner.”

 

“You will not!” Alex pushes him onto a beanbag on the floor, none-too-gently. “You’ve had the traumatic day, you stay there.”

 

“But I’m hungry.” 

 

So’s Alex, but at this point, he’s really been able to adjust to the low empty feeling in the pit of his stomach and the nauseating headache that follows. “Same.”

 

“Well… If you insist that I stay here…” Laurens raises an eyebrow at him cheekily, “Maybe  _ you  _ should do something about the food thing.” 

 

Alex glares at him, very aware that he’s just walked into a trap. He sighs. “Only for you, Laurens.” 

 

“Good nutrition is important, Alex. Tell ya what, though, you’ve got a script draft due, don’t you?”

 

“Yeah.” Alex wonders where he’s going with this.

 

“I’ll give it a read if you want. Second opinion? Should help get my out of my funk.” 

 

“Yeah!” Alex doesn’t give it a second thought. “Of course. Here.” He withdraws the manuscript (40 pages, three characters minimum, must include conflict) from his bag and tosses it in Laurens’ general direction. “Won’t be long.”   
  


He takes his wallet and heads downstairs. If he’s honest, it’s been so long since he ate properly that he hardly knows what to buy. He settles on milk, some bits of produce that look a little past their best, boxed mac and cheese, ramen, and granola bars. 

 

No-one is going to claim that it is a  _ balanced  _ diet, but it’ll be filling and that’s enough.

 

He gives the bodega cat a pat on the way out. She’s a giant tabby called Polly. Alex mightn’t visit the bodega very much, but that giant cat is something special.

 

Laurens seems fully engrossed in his manuscript when he gets back. “What’d you get?” He asks, still looking down at the script.

 

“Whole bunch of things you probably won’t think are adequate enough.” Alex replies. He’s only half joking. “I’ll make something.”

 

“Dangerous.”

 

“Shut up.” Alex can cook. He’s just not that great at it.

 

He makes the ramen, cuts up the carrot and the rest of the iffy-looking vegetables and tosses them in. It could be worse. 

 

The bowls smell good as he carries them out to the other room. Laurens looks up and carefully tidies away the script. “You really need some chairs, man.”

 

Alex perches opposite him on the floor and hands him a bowl. “I’m only here to sleep, I don’t need chairs.”

 

“Your chiropractor is going to thank you for that in about thirty years.” Laurens tries some of the ramen and yelps. “Chili, man! I get the chili thing but  _ maybe  _ tone it down a little bit next time.”

 

“Sorry.” Alex mutters. He tries the ramen. He thinks he might have put a little too much chili in, but it’s not unbearable. “I never cook. You know that.”

 

“You live alone, how are you alive?”

 

“I regularly ask myself the same question.”

  
  


Later, after they’ve both eaten, Laurens goes over the script draft, pointing out a couple of things that Alex can work on. It’s nice to have some objective feedback - Alex finds that he gets caught in his head every time he writes and tends to miss little errors.

 

“Wanna run lines?” Laurens suggests.

 

“Thought Cat was hanging around?” Alex teases, “Surely it’s not a good idea to do them now.”

 

“Not  _ mine.”  _ Laurens stressed, “Ours. Pritchard and Ogmore.” 

 

_ Oh.  _ Okay. “I think you start off.” 

 

“Mmmmm.” Laurens digs through his bag and finds his script. After scanning through it for a few moments, he starts, “You first, Mr Ogmore.”

 

“After you, Mr Pritchard.” He lies back, closes his eyes. He knows these ones already. They’re simple enough to stick after only a couple of repetitions. His shirt rides up as he stretches.

 

He hears a sharp intake of breath.

 

“Alex…”

 

“What?” He turns towards him, but doesn’t bother to open his eyes. 

 

“Look at me.”

 

He opens his eyes. Laurens doesn’t look happy. “What?”

 

“You’ve gotten really thin.” 

 

He huffs, and closes his eyes again. He loves Laurens, but he worries too much. “I’m fine.”

 

“I can see your hipbones.”

 

“I’m  _ fine. _ ” He is. Laurens is worrying too much, as per usual. So what if his clothes aren’t as fitting as well as they used to? He’s been busy. “I’ve been running around a lot lately. It’s to be expected.”

 

Laurens prods him in the stomach. “Really?”

 

He turns away. “I’m fine. Really. Can we do the lines?”

 

“Yeah.” Laurens says, but when he restarts, he doesn’t sound as happy as he did before. 


	8. week eight slump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is an idiot. 
> 
> As per.

Three weeks to show week. 

_ Three weeks to show week  _ and they’ve not even done a full run through. Half the class is still on their scripts. Washington isn’t happy, and neither is the cast.

 

Angelica - who he’s never seen so emotional in  _ years  _ \- messes up a line and goes out crying. Herc stands on Maria’s foot during one of the dance scenes and they both have to go outside to cool off before they start screaming at each other. Laurens and Eliza perform their final romantic scene as Rosie and Cat so beautifully that they both end up sobbing by the final line. 

This is the week eight slump. They’re used to it, but it doesn’t mean that they’re happy about it. The combination of stress, fatigue and pre-show fear culminates into something truly special. 

 

“Everyone, gather up.” Washington says, near the end of the day on Friday.

 

Alex looks up from his laptop. He’s got a script due in a few hours that is  _ very much  _ not done, but the note in Washington’s voice is final. He closes the laptop and walks over to join the bulk of the group. 

 

“You’ve all had a hard week. I understand that. However, we’re three weeks from opening. I should be seeing much stronger work from all of you - especially since you’re well into your third year of study. We’ve sold out already, that’s how much people want to see this show. We need to give them something amazing.”

 

Alex isn’t ashamed to say he tears up a little bit. The combination of Washington’s words, the utterly painful fatigue resting in his joints, the hunger gnawing at his stomach, and the pressure he’s under makes him want to sob. Washington, of all people, should understand. 

 

“We’re going to do one final practise today.” Washington continues. “We’re going to run the entire show, scripts down. If you mess up, keep on going. Pretend it’s opening night.”

 

_ What? _

Alex has heard of guerilla tactics, but this is  _ insane.  _ They’re all tired, exhausted, completely past it. There’s no way that anything they’ll do will affect them positively. 

 

“What?” George voices what they’re all thinking. “I do appreciate a joke at the best of times, Sir, but this is obscene.”

“No joke.” Washington replies, steadily. “You have this show in you. Go out there and fight for it.”

“But-” Alex begins to speak, to plead.

“No, Alex.” Washington rubs a hand over his forehead, looking about as tired as the rest of them are. “We’re doing this. I have faith in all of you. Lights up in five.” 

 

Well, that’s that. When Wash gets an idea in his head, there’s no stopping him.

 

Alex scrambles to his feet. He’ll have to ignore the tiredness. He’ll have to.

Pushing past the extreme is very him, anyway.

  
  


He nearly tears a button off his first costume as he’s getting into it - his hands are shaking so much. He doesn’t know if he can do this. While they’re just performing to Washington, messing it up would feel like  _ failure  _ and Alex doesn’t like failure.

 

“ _ Relax _ , Alexander.” Lafayette says, whirling past in a collection of flamboyancy and ribbon. “You will be good.”

 

Somehow, his words don’t help.

  
  


But then suddenly they’re through the first act and well into the second with hardly a misstep. He stands on Peggy’s toes during one of the dances, but Eliza manages to cut the edge of his ankle with one of her heels during their sex scene, so he supposes that that makes up for it. 

And then it’s the final Ogmore-Pritchard scene and Alex’s thoughts are whirling too fast in his head for him to follow, the excitement and exhaustion making everything seem blurry. Laurens stands opposite him, Eliza in between, but he can’t see any more than that. The audience is gone. This is here and now, and  _ them. _

 

“We must take our pyjamas from the drawer marked pyjamas.” He and Laurens speak in unison - echoing the words of Mr Ogmore and Mr Pritchard - a scene that must seem incredibly confusing free from context.

 

“And then you must take them off.” Eliza says, almost cruelly, in a way that is far more her than the character. 

He gets it. At this point, how could he not?

 

But the scene’s moving on at the speed of light, and yet somehow everything seems to be moving like he’s underwater. Laurens, as per the blocking, strides towards him, grabs him by the collar of his shirt and kisses him.

 

This is no stage kiss.

This is  _ want  _ and  _ need  _ and pure bloody-minded exhaustion. It’s the culmination of three years worth of dancing around each other, of pain and fatigue.

 

Laurens moves his hands up to Alex’s jaw and deepens the kiss, pressing Alex back against the piece of set behind him just as the lights go down.

 

Alex, in a move incredibly uncharacteristic of him, decides to take that moment to pass out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the ogmore-pritchard scene in question is actually weirdly dubcon in the original script - basically the wife of both of these guys is making their two ghosts have sex with her. v v strange.)
> 
> the 'week eight slump' is real, by the way.  
> and it sucks.
> 
> on my last show i cried at the end of every single rehearsal in week eight, half of our cast ended up sleeping on the studio floor, and our two directors ended up bickering.
> 
> i love theatre.


	9. the hospital

 

The faint beep of a heart monitor spears through his head when he wakes up.

Everything’s white.  _ Too white.  _ He can’t afford a hospital visit. This is bad.

 

He struggles, looking around wildly. There’s an IV going into his arm, curtains drawn firmly around the bed, and Laurens is sitting in a chair at his feet, dozing.

Shit. Maybe if he gets out of her quickly the cost won’t be too high.

 

He moves to pull back the sheets and stand up - (he’ll figure out how to ditch the IV later) - when Laurens stirs.

The joy Alex feels from seeing his friend (or whatever the hell they are now) quickly fades when he realises that Laurens is  _ angry.  _ Far angrier than Alex has ever seen him.

 

“What on earth were you thinking?!”

 

“If this is something I did, I’m seriously sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Laurens grips the bridge of his nose and breathes out sharply. “Alex. You’re underweight, heavily malnourished and pretty sick. You passed out from dehydration. How could you do this to yourself?”

 

_ Oh.  _ Laurens is angry because he’s worried. He shouldn’t be worried. Worry doesn’t suit him.

“I was busy.”

 

“Too busy to eat? Really?”

 

“But if you eat you have to cook and then cooking takes time and then you have to clean up and…” Alex doesn’t realise he’s rambling until Laurens interrupts him.

 

“You’re a human, Alex, not a machine. You can’t keep on doing this to yourself.”

 

“But I  _ have  _ to.” He says. No-one ever seems to get it. “I have to. There’s not enough hours in the day and there’s so much to do. I need to do my classwork and my actual work and there’s not enough time to care about anything else. It’s non-stop. I need to  _ be  _ non-stop.” If he lets things pile up then they’ll consume him whole.

 

“Fuck.” Laurens swears under his breath and worries the bridge of his nose even harder. “Look. Just… I don’t want to talk to you for a bit, Alex.”

And with that, he  _ leaves. _

 

Just leaves Alex alone in his bed with an IV tube running into his arm, a splitting headache, and too many questions he doesn’t know the answer to. 

He closes his eyes and tries very hard not to cry.

  
  


Herc and Lafayette show up about 10.30am.

 

Alex has tried to make his escape more than once, but every time he stands up he gets overcome by a rush of dizziness that forces him back to his bed.

Has he really been overdoing it? Is Laurens right?

 

“You are an  _ idiot _ .” Lafayette says, and then hugs him too tightly. Under his over-exuberant veneer Alex can tell that he’s worried. “What were you thinking, Alex?  _ Merde!”  _ He shakes his head and moves to let Herc in.

 

“Laf’s right.” Herc doesn’t hug him. He’s angry, his irritance bubbling just beneath the surface. “You could have come to us, man. Why didn’t you say anything?” 

 

“I… didn’t know.” He  _ didn’t.  _

Well, of course he did, but he didn’t let it phase him. Sometimes these things just slip his mind. It’s hard to remember to care for himself when he’s got lines to learn, assignments to do, scripts to -  _ shit.  _ “Fuck.” He panics, scrabbling wildly for his laptop next to the bed. “Fuck. My script was due last night and if I don’t get it in today Jeff will take 5% off and I can’t -”

 

“No.” Another voice?

 

He looks up, and sees Washington emerging through the curtain. He swallows.  _ He’s failed him.  _ He could have had the strength to make it through that practise - he could have tried harder… “Sir?”

 

“Hercules, Lafayette, leave us for a while, please.” Washington doesn’t shout, hardly raises his voice above a low murmur, but the power in those words is enough. 

Herc and Laf can’t disobey him. No-one can.

It’s no wonder that the man had such a stage career. The presence he holds, even when he’s not performing, is wonderous. 

Alex can only dream of becoming such an actor. 

 

“Be good, Alexander.” Laf squeezes his hand gently and leaves through the curtain.

 

It’s oddly reminiscent of a stage. Is this to be his monologue? His pride before the fall? He feels a bit dizzy. Might just be the malnutrition, though. 

 

Herc doesn’t bother saying anything, just raises his eyebrows at Alex and leaves.

If Alex knows those two well enough (and he definitely  _ does)  _ then he knows that they’ll be hanging around just outside the curtain, listening it. The thought isn’t uncomfortable. At least they’ll have his back if Wash decides to get mad. 

 

“Sir?” He asks, hesitantly, suddenly feeling very ashamed. “I’m sorry for ruining the run. I was tired and I won’t do it-”

 

“Alex, stop.” Washington sits down in the chair near the end of the bed. He sighs, puts his head in his hands for a few moments. “You need to take a break.”

 

“You sound like my ex.” Alex mutters, and immediately regrets it. Embarrassing. It’s true, though. Even at the end, even when he and Eliza weren’t really speaking, she’d always try to get him to slow down.

He can’t slow down.

He’s gotta graduate, gotta make the effort. In this industry, if you’re not good enough, then you get nowhere.

 

“I pushed you all too hard yesterday, and I shouldn’t have. It was bad directing, and even worse teaching.”

 

“Sir?” Alex is  _ confused.  _ While the full run had come a bit out of left-field, it certainly wasn’t unwarranted. It had worked.

At least until he’d fucked everything up.

“I’m fine. The show will be fine. It’s fine.”

He’s not even sure if he can believe it. Damn, his head aches.

 

“This is not  _ fine,  _ Alex!” Washington looks up and Alex is hit with the full power of his glare. 

 

It makes him want to cower like a child, just curl up and crawl under the blankets and hide until he goes away. 

 

“Do you know why I left the professional scene?” Wash asks, suddenly gentle, as though he’s _ sorry(?). _

He doesn’t need to be sorry. Why’s he sorry?

 

Alex blinks, even more confused. “No, sir.”

 

“I burnt myself out, Alex. I overcommitted to things, alienated my family, tried to do too many things at once. Ended up in the hospital mid-season of  _ The Color Purple  _ in much the way that you did.” Wash smiles wistfully. “Martha dragged me out of it, of course, but the damage was done.”

 

“Sir…?” 

 

“You’re a human, Alex, not a machine. You can’t keep on doing this much.”

 

“But I have to, sir!” Alex sits up, and tries very hard to stop shaking. “I need to try harder, I’m not good enough -”

There’s an indignant shriek from outside the curtain, followed by a loud slap. Everyone ignores it.

“-I need to be better.”

 

“You are top of my class, Alex.”

 

“With respect, sir, A-minuses aren’t A-pluses.” 

 

Washington sighs. “What about acting for the joy of acting, Alex? What happened to that?”

 

“The joy of acting isn’t going to get me a job.”

 

Washington sighs again, heavily. He stands. “They’re keeping you in for observation until tomorrow -”

 

“But-” Alex interrupts. He can’t stay in for another night. That’ll double his bill. He can’t afford that. He can’t afford that at all. Anxiety hangs in his stomach, bubbly and nauseating. He  _ can’t.  _

 

“Don’t interrupt me.” Wash says. “You will stay in here until tomorrow. Monday morning, you’ll come back to class, with proper food and after having a proper rest. Jefferson’s extended your script deadline until next Friday. Take the weekend off.”

 

“I can’t afford to stay in here until tomorrow, sir.” 

 

“Don’t worry about it, Alex.” And with that, Washington leaves.

 

Much like everyone else seems to be doing. 

 

Alex sinks back into the pillows, completely wrung out. The conversation with Washington has left him shaky and with the horrible feeling that everyone else might be right.

_ Damn. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huh im totally not dealing with my own feelings on theatre in this chapter no sireeeeeeee
> 
> also, i got into my masters program at my university! i'm starting my masters in theatrical production in a month. considering they only take ten applicants out of the 100 that apply, it is pretty darn exciting!


	10. The Second Act Turning-Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex gets some help from an unexpected source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As following the fandom-wide canon, Peggy's non-binary. They/Them pls.

He takes the day. Nurses bustle in and out, changing IV bags that he can’t afford and giving him medications that he doesn’t know the name of.

He texts Laurens, with no reply. 

Herc and Laf sit with him for a bit, but then they have to go off, work on sceno or costumes or whatever production role they’re doing (in all honesty, he’s basically forgotten).

 

He’s alone. 

Really alone. 

  
  


He starts sobbing mid-afternoon and he can’t seem to make himself stop. He’s let the theater department down, he’s let Laurens down, he doesn’t know how he’ll be able to pay for his hospital fees - the whole situation is shit and they’ve only got three weeks until they open.

  
  


They discharge him early the next morning, without mentioning the bill, and he stumbles out of the hospital dressed in his theatre blacks and nearly passes out again when he sees who’s waiting for him.

 

“Angie?” He gasps, wondering if he’s just dreaming this part as well.

 

“You don’t get to call me that anymore, Alex.” It’s Angelica. Really. She’s here. 

 

“Angelica. Sorry. What- what are you doing here?” It’s a testament to the hospital’s efficacy that it’s only now that he’s beginning to feel a little shaky.

 

“Oh, I’m here too!” Peggy appears, almost out of nowhere, and tugs his arm around them. “We’re here to fix you.”

 

He leans on them, feels the softness of their skin and the sweet smell coming off their hair. It would be good, except for the fact that their sister is still glaring at Alex, rather furiously.

 

“Yes.” Angelica says, though she doesn’t stop glaring. “You’ve been falling apart for months now. We’re here to fix you.” 

 

“I mean… I don’t think I was falling apart?”

 

“You cheated on my sister, passed out on stage and you’ve alienated the best person you’ve got in your life. Are you sure you’re not falling apart?” She retorts.

 

“Two of those things were mainly because I was very tired…” Alex begins, then decides not to get into it when he sees the look on her face. “Never mind.” 

 

“What we’re trying to say, Alex,” Peggy says, the look on their face earnest and oddly welcoming, despite the circumstances, “is that you need some help to fix your life. Aside from everything else in the world that we’re doing right now, Angelica and I don’t have much else to do. You need us.”

 

“I do need you.” Alex says hoarsely. It had been so good, even for a moment, to walk out of the hospital and see someone waiting for him there. Even though it had been the disgruntled sister of his ex-girlfriend, it still had been good. “Please. I’m a disaster. Help me.”

 

“It would have been easier if you’d just asked for help months ago.” Angelica grumbles, but starts walking them towards her car. “You always do too much. You’re lucky that we’re still around.”

 

“I am.” If he cries in front of her he’ll never live it down. “So, so lucky. Why are you helping me?”

 

“You’re an idiot, Alex,” Angelica said, very matter-of-factly, and unlocked her car, “But I can’t ignore that we’ve been friends forever. I don’t  _ actually  _ want to see you self-destruct.” 

 

“Yeah, and I actually like you!” Peggy pipes up. “Despite the whole cheating thing.”

 

He supposes that’s all he’s got at the moment. 

  
  


They drive him back to his apartment, actually manage to find a parking space, and haul him inside. Everything suddenly feels like it’s going way too fast. He is deposited on one of the beanbags in the lounge while the other two go to work in opposite ends of the apartment.

 

“The hell have you been eating, Alex?” Angelica says, rifling through his fridge with some disdain, occasionally throwing mouldy produce in the direction of the sink. 

 

“Will you yell at me if I say ‘not much’?” He replies, sheepishly. “I am never here.”

 

“That’s not an excuse.” She continues picking through his fridge, face scrunched up.

 

Meanwhile, Peggy is picking through the piles of papers on his desk. “You have scripts here from  _ two years ago.  _ And that’s -” They haul out a crumpled mess of loose-leaf paper. “... is this the script pitch you gave in  _ freshman year?”  _

 

“Probably.” Is there a feeling lower than shame? Whatever it is, he’s feeling it right now.

 

“It was an okay idea, Alex, but you’re never going to use it.” Peggy throws the papers in the bin.

 

Alex winces. “I could have.”

 

“When?” Peggy challenges, raising an eyebrow at him. “You’ve had two years.”

 

“But I-”

 

“How do you work in here, Alex?” Peggy kneels in front of him, face open and earnest. They take his hand. “Everyone talks about ‘creative mess’ in our classes and all, but I can’t even find a pen.” 

 

“I did have one…”

 

“Yeah.” Peggy drags him to his feet. “Come on. I’m not doing everything for you.”

 

Together, they make a decent dent in the mess on his desk. They also remake his bed - which, frankly, has been a bit neglected lately, do two loads of laundry and open all of the windows.

Angelica comes back an hour or so later, completely loaded up with food. “I’ve got you dry things.” She says, “Most of these won’t go off. You do know how to cook, I take it?”

 

“You… really didn’t need to buy anything for me.” Alex says, quietly, “Don’t- don’t do that.” 

 

“Don’t be an idiot.” Angelica says, and places a load of paper bags down on his counter. “If you were in my position I’m sure you’d do the same for me. Even though you are an idiot.”

 

“Okay…” Alex says, hoarsely, utterly shocked at their generosity. After everything he’d done, they were still trying to help him. He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve it at all. 

His legs suddenly give out underneath him, and he’s sitting on the floor, eyes stinging once again. He’s so exhausted, all of a sudden, tiredness settling in his bones and he feels all cried-out. 

 

“Come on, Alex, let’s go to bed.” Peggy pulls him up from the floor, eyes meeting his. “You should have a sleep, I think.”

 

“Mmmm, yeah.” Alex agrees, and yawns. He doesn’t know why he’s so tired. Everything feels sluggish and slow, like he’s been trapped underwater. He wants to relish in it, to sink into the nothingness and let it flood over him, so he doesn’t have to think any more.

The journey to his bedroom seems to take no time and all the time in the world simultaneously. He collapses face first onto his bed and sleeps for a full eight hours.

 

Peggy and Angelica are still there when he wakes up at 5. His stomach rumbles, but he’s gotten so used to ignoring it at this point that he disregards it.

They’re in the lounge, talking quietly, though he can still hear them from his bedroom.    
  


“Alex!” Peggy choruses when he comes in. “Why do you have ten seasons of the Bachelor on DVD?”

 

“Because they’re more dramatic than all the shows I’ve been in, combined.” He sits down on the beanbag between them. “Thanks for staying.”

 

“Angie wanted to talk to you.” Peggy says, and directs his gaze over to Angelica, who doesn’t actually look that mad. She’s more pensive, if he could hazard a guess.

 

He steels himself for an interrogation.

It never actually comes.

 

“We’ve done everything we can to help you today, Alex.” She starts, staring him right in the eyes. It’s a little intense, if he’s honest. “We’ve cleaned your place, got you food, given you some time. Now it’s up to you.”

 

“I’m not actually as much of a mess as you think I am-” Alex begins, but he’s steamrolled before he can actually get to the point he’s trying to make.

 

“Yes, you are.” Angelica returns to the pointed staring. “If I don’t see you with food at every rehearsal, me, or Peggy, will come over here until we see you beginning to cook for yourself again.”

 

“I do know how to cook, Angelica.”

 

“Your stove hasn’t been used for at least a month, Alex, I’m not an idiot.” 

 

He nods. That’s probably true.

 

“You need to take some time out for yourself.” Peggy adds, gentler, but still unrelenting. “Self-care, yeah? You know about it. We all do.” 

 

“Yeah.” He does. It’s (usually) supposed to be part of an actor’s toolkit. He’s just been… neglecting it a bit lately. 

 

“Go down to the coffee shop. Go to the movies. Just get out of this cave occasionally.”

 

Peggy’s right, it  _ is  _ a cave. His apartment’s not terrible, but it’s certainly not large and full of light.

 

“And lastly,” Angelica says, “You’ve got some people to apologise to, don’t you?”

 

He supposes he does. “I’m sorry that I fell apart so much that you had to do this for me.”   
  


“No!” Angelica rolls her eyes. “Not us. We don’t mind being here, really.”

 

“Ish. Angie’s still a bit grumpy, though you’d never know.” Peggy adds, cheekily, and dodges the pen that her sister throws at her.

 

“Eliza doesn’t hate you. Don’t go into the last weeks of one of your last shows with a rift between you.” Angelica explains. “Apologize. Properly this time.”

 

“Yeah.” Alex nods, violently. He needs to. Again. “I will.”

 

“And Laurens.” Peggy says, grasping his hands and giving them a squeeze. “He cares so much about you, Alex. You don’t want to lose him.”

 

“I’m too much of a mess for him to care about me.”

 

“Don’t you dare say that.” Peggy’s grip on his hands turns more vice-like. “That man would follow you to the end of the earth.”

 

“Then why’d he stop talking to me?”

 

Peggy rolls their eyes. “Boys.” They mutter, and Angelica nods in agreement. “He’s angry because you’re not looking after yourself. He’s in love with you, Alex, everyone can see it.” 

 

“In love-?”

 

No. 

 

No, that can't be right. 


	11. Climax

Alex is confrontational. 

 

It’s in his nature. He’ll always fight for what’s right, and he won’t necessarily worry about feelings along the way.

 

He should just be able to go up to Laurens and ask.

 

He should be able to use his words. They’re his trademark, aren’t they?

 

But he can’t. 

 

Even when he gets back to rehearsals on Monday, he can’t just  _ ask. _

  
  


As soon as he arrives, he goes up to Eliza and apologies thoroughly and sincerely. She’s confused, obviously curious as to what’s changed with him, but she doesn’t question it. Though they’re not still put to rights after he’s said his piece, things feel like they’re beginning to get better.

 

He eats the food he’s brought for lunch during their break - an  _ actual  _ sandwich, and  _ actual  _ fruit - and doesn’t feel so bad. For once, there’s no hole gouging its way through his stomach.

 

For once, he actually feels  _ full. _

 

It’s not a total recovery, it won’t be for a long, long time, but it feels like a beginning.

 

It’s all he can really do.

 

“Full act run, everyone! Get into your costumes, and we’ll run act two without stopping.” Wash urges them to their feet. “We need to get it down to under 50 minutes or this show’s going to be three hours long, and we’re already running behind.”

 

“Yes, Alexander, try not to pass out this time,” George says, snidely. “We know about your little crush, but try to keep it off the stage, yes?”

 

Lafayette has to leap into action to physically stop Alex from leaping at George.

 

“At least I actually have human emotions!” Alex snarls at the Englishman’s retreating back.

 

Ass.

 

“You should not let him antagonise you.” Lafayette says, soothingly, and rubs a hand over Alex’s back. “He is a small, silly man.”

 

“I know…” Alex, in all honesty, isn’t quite sure what he would have done had he actually reached George in time. “He’s still an ass though.”

  
“Oh yes. Definitely.”

 

“COSTUMES!” Wash bellows, and they both scurry to get dressed up. 

  
  


Alex doesn’t even have time to get to Laurens before they have their  _ scene  _ together. The man appears to be avoiding him.

 

Which isn’t amazingly great considering the literal romantic literal scene they’re about to have together. 

 

It is not until the mere moments before their scene, when they’re standing pressed together in the dark of the wings together, that he actually has a chance to speak.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.” He hisses, under his breath.

 

If Wash hears him talking backstage, he’ll be annoyed, and Alex doesn’t want to do anything to annoy him even more. The weekend’s already done that. 

 

Laurens doesn’t respond. He just stares out at the stage, obviously waiting for their cue.

 

“Please, John, don’t make me beg.” There’s desperation in his voice now, all the pain of the weekend suddenly making itself known. This matters to him more than the play ever did. If they go onto stage now as enemies, it feels like the world might end. “I’m sorry. I don’t deserve you. You shouldn’t want me. I’m a mess.” And despite the dramatic nature of the words, they’re right. The bitter taste in his mouth doesn’t seem to let up though.

 

That seems to do it. Laurens turns to him, fire fierce in his eyes. “ _ I  _ shouldn’t want  _ you _ ? Because you’re a  _ mess? _ Everyone’s a mess, here, Alex. Everyone. I just thought… it was something that we could deal with together. I don’t want you to live this alone.” 

 

“I’m sorry.” Alex whispers, suddenly on the verge of tears. It’s embarrassing, this. It happens too often. “I didn’t want to hurt yo-”

 

“You didn’t hurt me, you idiot. I was worried for your sake.” John hisses, wetness glistening around his eyes. “Don’t you realise how much I care about you? You didn’t have to push through this alone.” 

 

“...I know that now.” Alex ducks his head. Fuck, he feels like shit. He doesn’t want John to hurt. He never wants John to hurt. This is terrible. He’s caused so much pain.

 

John grabs him roughly by the shoulders and pulls him into a hug. “Don’t you dare start spiralling now. I know you’re blaming yourself for this. Don’t you  _ dare,  _ Alex, I love you but I’m not going to let you hurt yourself even more. _ ” _

 

So it’s  _ true? _

 

John… loves him?

 

John loves him. 

 

It feels… right. It feels like it fits. 

 

How could he have been so blind?

 

He can’t speak any louder than a mutter, words stuck behind a knot in his throat. “I love you too. John. I always have.” And that’s true  _ too.  _ Ever since their first scene together, he’s known it. 

 

Alex sinks into the hug, wraps his arms even tighter around John’s back and lets the seconds tick away until they’re forced out under the lights and into their scene.

 

This time, the kiss is real.

 

(And he doesn’t pass out during it.)

 

Good. 


	12. Chapter 12

**_Under Milk Wood_ **

**_May 22nd - June 2nd 2018_ **

**_NYU: TISCH_ **

 

**_Reviewed by Emily Roberts_ **

 

_ New York University’s  _ Under Milk Wood _ is a triumph in stagecraft. From the energy of the piece to the talent of the young actors involved, 1950s Wales will never know what’s hit it.  _

_ We all know  _ Under Milk Wood _ , right? Dylan Thomas’ long-ass play that’s basically just an exercise in staying awake? Look, I’m not trying to knock the guy, but the play is long and wordy and it’s hard to make it anything more than a two hour long diatribe.  _

_ However, one of TISCH’s undergrad performance classes has done just that. Directed by George Washington (yes, the George Washington - the same guy who graced the stages of Broadway for nearly two decades) this version of  _ Under Milk Wood _ is a joy to behold. Think of the lyrical nature and beauty of Dylan Thomas’ works, but with the passion, sexiness and joy of a community that just survived the war. _

_ I know, I know, we probably don’t think of 1950s Wales as particularly sexy, but look at it this way - these people have survived the end of their worlds and have come out safe on the other side. A lot of them are just overjoyed to be alive, and it’s certainly apparent within this show. _

Under Milk Wood _ has 57 characters overall and there’s only eleven students in the class, so you can bet that there’s a lot of running around. Major kudos to Angelica Schuyler, who plays eight characters overall and carries them all perfectly.  _

_ I’d also like to make mention of a fabulous onscreen couple, Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens, who played (other characters as well, obviously) Mr Ogmore and Mr Pritchard respectively. Although Thomas didn’t quite make this leap in his own writing, the coupling of Ogmore and Pritchard - both ghosts, trapped on this plane by their wife, Mrs Ogmore-Pritchard - together makes a lot of sense. The two men have palpable romantic chemistry and it certainly leaps beyond the page. _

_ For a well-worn classic with a bit of a twist, check out  _ Under Milk Wood,  _ playing at the Abe Burrows Theatre in Greenwich this week and next. You’re in for one hell of a show. _

 

“Palpable romantic chemistry?” Laurens chortles, then throws the paper in Alex’s face. “I wonder why that is?” 

 

Alex catches it just before it hits his nose and takes a look for himself. It’s all there, in writing. “I have no idea what she’s talking about. You know the media, they always hype things up.”

 

“Yeah, they always do.” Laurens replies, and leans in to kiss him. 

 

And even though Alex isn’t fully better, even though the desire to work too hard and take too little care of himself still courses through him, this feels  _ good.  _

 

The review makes it even better.

 

For an actor, there’s a certain joy in both.

 

FIN.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at the end of this story! Thank you all for watching, and goodnight.

**Author's Note:**

> check me out on the [tumbs](http://villainousfilmmaker.tumblr.com)  
> 


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